Thursday, 23 April 2009


my father said it when I was 17
never grow old
your life changes it’s difficult to cope
puts you wise
when you are talking about the past
you are talking 93 years ago
when I was busy playing
mine was a grandmother
a fairy grandmother
a high ruffle
a navy skirt touched her foot
a brooch
the other a witch
frightened me to death
hook nose
plaits over her ears
one was a storybook
a great granny 93 beautiful
straight backed white haired
walked up to 92
long black bonnet
straight high-back chair

a big family lived to a ripe age
they looked fair refreshing
(take a mental note: enjoy
the weather)
guided proud old English farmers
I am a grand
a great-grandparent
couldn’t quote the children

grandchildren close but
we can talk anything on a level
they’re my equal and we talk and
right let’s go outside grandma and have a fag
get older
it comes whether you like it or not
a terrible waiting

a long time a long time ended
being here
I’m accepting it
I’m not safe
something frantic
an angry tone
a chain round my neck
I’m getting weary
today is not a fair measure
an impossibility physically
educationally beautifully poetically
a complex question
I feel happy disgruntled annoyed
today I feel

Collaborative Poem
8 December 2006

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